S c i n t i l l a
by belladonnanroses
Summary: Sequel to 'Paradise Lost'. Buffy and Spike may have defeated Angelus, but there are other forces mounting against them. Songs are by Sneaker Pimps, Beth Hart Band, Bush, Counting Crows, Sugar Ray.
1. Morning Light

'Your hearth is served cold,   
  
Your sights are set in perfect stone,   
  
And when you go, you go alone,  
  
And when you stand, you're on your own.'  
  
The dream was always the same.  
  
She was running through the darkness, barefoot, slipping and falling. The ground felt like glass on the bottoms of her feet, and she was leaving behind a trail crimson footsteps. She didn't know where she was running to, or what she was running from, but with each dream she could feel it getting closer, and her destination getting farther.  
  
Eventually, she would begin to slow down, her feet shredded, limping horribly. She would turn around then, slowly, as if she already know what she would see. It was always the same sight, the blurring of two figures, obviously female, and a third shapeless form between them. All were in white. All would smile.   
  
And then she would wake up.  
  
* * *  
  
Buffy rolled over in the bed, her sleepy eyes roaming the darkness absently. She sighed and stretched her hand out towards the empty spot beside her, her fingers tracing the indent on the pillow.   
  
This was the third week in a row that she'd awoken to find him missing, his place next to hers empty and cold.   
  
Soundlessly, she left the bed and began pulling on her clothes, a pair of baggy cargo pants and a white tee-shirt, before moving over to the window seat and pulling open the curtains. The night sky was dimming slightly and the full moon hung low in the sky while a few straggling stars sparkled against the darkness.   
  
Reaching into the pockets of her pants, Buffy pulled out her package of Virginia Slims. She studied the packaging for a moment before pulling out a cigarette and rolling it between her fingers. Lately, smoking seemed to have lost it's appeal to her and it had become a rare event for her to light up over the past few months.   
  
Now, however, alone in the dark with nothing but a cold bed and his lingering scent, cigarettes seemed like the perfect thing to do.  
  
Her hands shook as she placed the cigarette between her lips and let her lighter flare, extinguishing the light as soon as the cigarette lit up. She inhaled deeply, shoving the wave of nausea that accompanied the now unfamiliar smoke down. The second time it was a little bit easier.  
  
She sat like that for hours, smoking and watching the moon sink lower into the ever brightening sky. 


	2. Revelations

'I wash the streets from your skin,  
  
When you come home.'  
  
"Hey."  
  
The sound of her voice cause Spike to trip over his shoes as he entered the darkened apartment. His eyes found hers and he grinned sheepishly, "Mornin'."  
  
Buffy unfolded herself from the window seat and, her eyes still on him, moved towards the kitchenette, "Where were you? I was worried ..."  
  
Spike shrugged noncommittally, "Nowhere important, love."  
  
"Oh," Buffy turned the percolator on, watching as the brown coffee began to drip, "Right. You've been going nowhere important for the last three weeks."  
  
Spike frowned, "Why can't you just trust me on this?"  
  
"I do trust you, I just wish," Buffy shut the percolator off and poured herself some coffee before replacing the pot and restarting the coffee maker, "that I didn't have to do it like this."  
  
"Like what?" Spike moved into the kitchenette, dropping his leather duster on the old couch as he went, "Unconditionally?" His eyes narrowed.  
  
"No!" She slammed her mug down on the counter, the coffee sluicing over the edge of the cup, "I wish I didn't have to do it when it entails you sneaking out of my bed in the dead of night without so much as a good-bye. For three weeks straight!"  
  
At her response, Spike seemed to deflate, his face becoming weary. He continued across the kitchenette to her, and wrapped his arms around her waist, ignoring her when she turned her mouth from his, "Look at me, love."  
  
Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to his. The pale blue-grey orbs above her darkened, and she felt herself drowning in the intensity residing there, "There is only you, Summers. I'm so far gone in you that nothing, absolutely nothing, could change the way I feel. I love you, Buffy. There is no one else. Never will be."  
  
At his words Buffy felt the tension leaving her body, and her arms uncrossed themselves from in front of her chest, her hands coming to rest on his forearms, "Tell me where you're going, please, Spike."  
  
He frowned and shook his head, "I can't yet, love. You're just going to have to trust me on this one."  
  
With one last searching glance at his eyes she sighed, acquiescing. A faint smile flickered across Spike's face. His hand cupped her face, smoothing back her stray hair as he leaned in closer to her, "I missed you."  
  
His mouth brushed against hers, slowly at first, then more intensely as their passion rose. Buffy opened her mouth to him and he moaned, his tongue meeting hers teasingly.  
  
He pulled away slowly, their foreheads resting against the each other's, their eyes searching, "Still my girl?"  
  
Buffy managed a small smile before leaning in to kiss him tenderly once more on the mouth, "Always."  
  
'I wash the streets from your skin,  
  
When you come home.' 


	3. Waking Signs

'We're nothing like friends,   
  
You have no time to spend.'   
  
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Each went about their respective tasks, neither mentioning their discussion earlier. As night fell, Buffy changed into a pair of jeans and a red sweater, tucking a few stakes into the waistband of her jeans she turned to Spike, "Coming?"   
  
The vampire nodded, sliding easily into his leather jacket before following her out of the apartment and down the stairs. The chilly December weather had chased the majority of the population inside and, as they continued on their walk towards the edge of the French Quarter, Buffy began to regret her decision to go out tonight.   
  
She shivered, and leaned closer to Spike, who wrapped his arm around her waist, buffering her from the wind, "Cold?"   
  
She scowled at him, "Just because being Mr. Undead makes you all non-feely with the weather, it doesn't mean you can't deeply sympathize."   
  
Spike smirked at her, "I sympathize. I even empathize. Especially when you're all pushed up against me like this."   
  
She scowled again at him, muttering a half-hearted 'pig' under her breath as they continued on down the winding alley streets.   
  
Spike turned his face up towards the clear night sky, taking in the clarity of the stars against the black setting. He was about to point out a particularly breathtaking constellation to Buffy, when the absolute silence surrounding him sunk into his awareness.   
  
Buffy had untangled herself from him and he could no longer hear her heartbeat.   
  
He turned around quickly, his eyes scanning the area, the first tinges of panic erupting in his stomach, "Oi! Buffy, love! Where d'you go?" He paused for a moment waiting for an answer. His hearing picked up the faint sense of laughter on the wind, and the feeling of nervousness brewing in his gut seemed to intensify, "Something is definitely wrong here."   
  
'And if you're guilt then I'm the shame,  
  
And if I'm hurt then you're the blame.'   
  
"Did you see that?" Buffy disentangled herself from Spike's arms and looked down one of the many narrow alleys they were passing, frowning at the darkness, "I could have sworn --"   
  
She broke off her sentence as a form glimmered in front of her for an instant before turning deeper into the alley, "Hey! Wait!" Without looking to see if Spike was following her, Buffy started down the alley, stake drawn, following the illusive, glimmering figure.   
  
Even if she'd wanted to, Buffy would have been unable to stop herself from following the girl through the twisting corridors. Her Slayer senses were off the scale, the hairs on the back of her neck standing straight as tiny twinges of pain resounded throughout her stomach.   
  
She broke into a run as the figure in front of her sped up, disappearing around sharp turns and forked corridors, without a glance backwards at her pursuer. Finally, with an inhuman burst of speed, the woman turned down an alleyway, before coming to a stop, Buffy close behind her.   
  
The woman continued to stare at the alley wall as Buffy moved closer to her, her stake still in her hand. He free hand came up to touch the apparition on her shoulder. Slowly, the woman turned to face her, and Buffy doubled over towards the ground, retching.   
  
Kendra's sightless face stared back at her. Two long, bleeding gashes glistened in her throat, blood trickling from the wounds down to the front of her white dress and staining the gauzy material. When she spoke, her voice echoed loudly against the grimy walls, forcing Buffy to look up at her from her position on the ground, "Betrayer."   
  
Buffy shook her head, her stomach contracting underneath her sweaty palms, "N-No ..."   
  
"She played with me before she killed me," Kendra's sightless eyes glowered down at Buffy dangerously, "Like I was a bug on a stick. And when she'd had her fill, she did this ... with her nails."   
  
Buffy struggled to stand, "I'm so sorry, Kendra. I should've been there, I should've known --"   
  
Kendra snarled, taking a step forward, "You should know better than to sleep with her paramour while I lie dead!"   
  
Buffy shook her head again, gasping, "It's not like that."   
  
Kendra continued forward, her hands outstretched, coming up to caress the collarbone of the other Slayer, she brought her face up against Buffy's ear, hissing, "Betrayer."   
  
Then, without warning, she brought up two long fingernails and swiped them across Buffy's throat. The blonde Slayer grabbed at the wounds, blood staining her hands, while the gashes on Kendra's neck expanded, pumping out a torrent of blood.   
  
"Buffy!" Dimly she was aware of Spike calling her name as she fell to the floor, the slime and mud, mixing into her wounds as she her mouth opened in a soundless scream.   
  
He was beside her in a second, shaking her, his hands rough on her face and neck as he pried away her grime covered hands, smearing the blood on her neck as he checked for wounds. "Thank god," he muttered, pressing her against him, Buffy's hysterics subsiding, "Thank god."   
  
Kendra's accusatory admonition still floated in the air around her, "Betrayer." 


	4. Trust

'You wash my trace from your skin,  
  
And you leave again.'  
  
Spike pushed open the door to the darkened apartment warily, scanning the place for signs of any intruders before shuffling Buffy in. The blonde girl was wrapped tightly in Spike's duster, and she moved slowly, the shock of the last hour still fresh in her mind.   
  
She flinched as Spike closed the door, the sound jolting her out of her reverie. She carefully unwound his duster from around her body, before turning to face Spike. He watched her carefully, eyes taking in her bloodied appearance. Nervously she wrapped her arms around herself, glaring back at him slightly, "Stop looking at me like you think I should be committed."  
  
Spike shook his head and took a step forward, "What happened back there, Buffy?"  
  
"What do you think happened?"  
  
Spike sighed, his hands coming up to her blood smeared neck, "This is your blood, isn't it?"  
  
Buffy dropped her gaze from him, futilely attempting to ignore his worried look. She couldn't even begin to explain to herself what had happened, least of all Spike, "I - I'm not ..." Her voice trailed off.  
  
"I thought I saw someone I used to know."  
  
Spike raised his eyebrow, "I take it they weren't happy to see you."  
  
"Yea," she pulled away from him and moved towards the large covered windows, pulling the curtains aside so that she could look down into the dark street below, "You could say that."  
  
"C'mere, love."  
  
Buffy let Spike pull her away from the window and into the small bathroom. He sat her down on the edge of the tub and turned on the shower, waiting for the water to warm. Silently, he undressed her, frowning as a crumpled package of Virginia Slims, fell from the pockets of her jeans onto the white tile floor, "I thought you said you were done with smoking, pet."  
  
Buffy shrugged half-heartedly, "You know how it is with cigarettes. They're like sin. Once you've done one you just can't stop."  
  
Spike silently finished examining her body for any cuts or bruises that might have been concealed by her clothes. When he was satisfied that there was no new marks on her, he gestured for her to enter the shower.  
  
Buffy hissed as the warm water made contact with her skin, washing away what felt like layers of blood and grime. She sighed, closing her eyes, letting the water do it's work. The sudden appearance of Kendra in the alley had thrown her off-balance, and the subsequent attack by the former Slayer had left Buffy feeling even more disconnected than normal, "I guess three months of peace is all we're allowed at a time."  
  
On the other side of the shower curtain, Spike nodded, "Looks like someone has bigger plans for us, love, than domestic tranquility."  
  
There was silence for a few moments as Buffy washed the shampoo from her hair. When she finally spoke her voice was small and searching, "What if I don't want this for my life? What if all I want is you."  
  
Spike's throat tightened at her words, "I'm always going to be here, love. Always. No matter what. I'm the long-haul guy, Summers. I love you."  
  
Buffy finished her shower in silence. When she stepped out, Spike held one of the large, soft bath towels out for her, and tenderly began to dry her off. She let out a long sigh and leaned into him, her fingers tracing small circles on his skin, "Spike."  
  
He stopped drying her, his hands snaking around her waist and pulling her flush against him. His voice dropped as he spoke softly in her ear, "I can be here for you, love, any way you want. But I can't be here for you all the way if you don't let me know what's going on."  
  
Buffy sighed, resting her forehead against his, her eyes squeezed shut. Finally, she drew in a deep breath before launching into an explanation about her dreams.  
  
Silence filled the bathroom when Buffy finished relating the dreams to Spike, "So you think these dreams having something to do with your dead mate appearing in the alley?"  
  
Buffy nodded, "I know it doesn't make a lot of sense --"  
  
"No, not really."  
  
"But I think one of the three people I keep seeing in my dreams is Drusilla." The look on Spike's face at the sound of his ex-lover's name made her wish she'd kept her suspicions to herself, "Spike."  
  
His face hardened itself into it's mask of nonchalance, but in his eyes were traces of real worry, "If Dru's gallivanting around in your dreams, love, this could be more serious than it looks."  
  
Buffy nodded, "I know that. There's more to it than that though. She killed Kendra, that night, before --" Buffy's voice trailed off into silence, leaving Spike to fill in the blanks.  
  
He nodded, once, "Well, when you put it that way, her appearance makes a lot more sense. Still doesn't explain how you were covered in your blood without a mark on you."  
  
Buffy's hand went instinctively to her throat, "Before you got there, she cut my throat. With her fingernails. The way Drusilla did it to her."  
  
Spike dug his hands into his jean pockets, searching for a cigarette, "You know what this means, love? We need professional help."  
  
Buffy cracked him a small smile, "Giles?"  
  
"Giles."  
  
'You wash my trace from your skin,  
  
And you leave again.'  
  
"Spike." Buffy's voice stopped him in his tracks as he reached the bathroom door. He had been about to go find some more cigarettes before they made the phone call.   
  
He turned to face her slowly, not sure of what to expect, his nerves tensing with anticipation, "Yes, love?"  
  
Her eyes met his, and she shivered, watching as they shifted to a blue so dark it was almost black. She took a step toward him, her tongue dipping out to moisten her lips. When she reached him, she let her hands rest on his shoulders. Her towel falling to her feet.  
  
Spike hissed at the sight of her standing naked in the bright bathroom light. She pressed herself against him, her fingers splaying themselves across the tops of his shoulders before slowly making their way down to his chest.  
  
"Stay." She breathed the words against his cheek, her mouth dropping lingering kisses on the side of his jaw, "I need you."  
  
Spike swallowed, his jeans suddenly uncomfortably tight, "Are you sure, love?"  
  
She nodded against him, as his hands entangled in her long golden hair before running up and down her back, setting her skin on fire. She whimpered against his neck.  
  
"Look at me, " his voice was hoarse and she did so without hesitation. They stared into each other's eyes without reservation, each one searching for the assurance that, no matter what, they would be all right. What they found was love.   
  
Spike dipped his head down to hers, their mouths hovering centimeters apart, their eyes still connected. Finally, he brought his mouth to hers, tentatively tasting the lips offered to him. Buffy groaned, opening her mouth to him and inviting him deeper. He responded in kind, his hands wrapping themselves in her hair again as they deepened the kiss, tongues dueling frantically.  
  
One of his hands slipped down to her leg, raising her so that she straddled him as he moved them against the bathroom wall. Buffy hissed as her heated skin came in contact with the cool tile. Her hand slipping underneath Spike's T-shirt. Slowly, she ran it along his stomach and chest, teasing his nipples before tugging the thin material over his head.   
  
He let out a groan, his head burying itself in the crook of her neck, one hand stroking her breast, the other pulling her even tighter against him. The feel of his blunt teeth on her neck sent a jolt of electricity through her and she bucked against him, his mouth sucking at the tender flesh after each bite. Her skin burned hot against him, branding him, and it was all he could do to keep himself in check. 


	5. Preperations

'Random laid plans,  
  
40 days of one night stands,  
  
And when you go, you go alone,  
  
You walk the cross, you made your own.'  
  
Joyce Summers had just finished cleaning the kitchen and was preparing to go out to the porch, book in one hand and a drink in the other, when the phone rang. She paused, debating whether or not to answer it. During the last three months, she and Buffy had begun communicating sporadically, the Slayer calling in to check on her mother at least once a month. Through their talks the Summer's women had begun to work out their differences and had even discussed tentative plans for the blonde to visit this Christmas season.  
  
Deciding that she would regret it if the caller turned to be Buffy, Joyce made her way back into the kitchen, and on the fourth ring, picked up the phone, "Hello?"  
  
"Mom?" The troubled notes in Buffy's voice caused Joyce to instantly forget her earlier plans and she seated herself on at the kitchen island, her attention riveted on her daughter's voice, "Buffy? Is that you? Are you all right?"  
  
"Yea," the relief in Buffy's voice transmitted itself over the phone, and Joyce sighed, "I just needed to talk to you."  
  
"Buffy, what's going on?"  
  
"Something big is happening on the Slayer front, Mom. I need to come back to Sunnydale. I was just calling to let you know that it looks like Spike and I will be in town for Christmas after all."  
  
"Oh, Buffy," Joyce took a drink of her lemonade, "Will you two be okay getting here?"  
  
"Yea, Mom," Buffy smiled against the phone, "You know us. We're always okay."  
  
"Is there anything else?"  
  
"Yea," Buffy drew in a deep breath, "Is the number for the library the same? I need to talk to Giles."  
  
'I wash the streets from your skin,  
  
When you come home.  
  
I wash the streets from your skin,  
  
When you come home.'  
  
Pedra da Gavea, Rio de Janero, Brazil  
  
The mountain known as Pedra da Gavea had developed a reputation in the last two hundred years for the supernatural. It was claimed that strange lights and beings could be seen around the mountain after nightfall, and that inside the mountain was a series of tunnels and pathways leading all over the area and even onto a few tiny, offshore islands. Expedition after expedition ventured to Pedra da Gavea, each searching for proof of the rumors but, aside from some Phoenician writing, none were able to unlock the mountain's secrets.  
  
Drusilla smiled, watching as the bright stars danced above her in the black sky. She stood atop the mountain, her hands outstretched, her head tilted back, her long, black hair flowing in her wind, "Mm, they call to me."  
  
She spun around, each time raising her hands higher, until she stopped, facing the bound and gagged man before her, "But what are the saying, hm?"  
  
She stalked over to the man, watching as he trembled on the ground, "Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle like a little worm. You be the bait, and I'll be the fish." She snapped her jaws at him for good measure and danced away again, inhaling the scent of his fear.  
  
Slowly, she knelt on the ground, pressing her ear to the barth, "But what are they saying to me? 'Psst, psst, psst ...' They're too silent. Weak. They need to feed."  
  
She rose and turned back towards the man, smoothing the folds in her long red dress, "But we all think better when our tummies are full." Carelessly, she yanked the man up by the hair, his pleading louder through the oilcloth she had wrapped around his mouth. She pulled it away now, letting his pleas fill the night. Her eyes drifted up towards the stars and she pulled the man closer, pushing his head aside so that his neck was exposed to her.  
  
"Sorry, love," she murmured, her face taking on the visage of the demon, "But I don't speak Portuguese."  
  
She bit into him viscously, letting the blood spill sloppily over the side of her mouth and down onto the parched ground, he shook and then his body became taut, his eyes widening until finally they turned glassy and he stilled completely. With a sound of disgust she dropped him to the floor, letting the excess blood run down his throat and into the ground, "I hate it when the die before I'm done feeding. It ruins the taste."  
  
She closed her eyes once more, concentrating on the voices whispering into her ears. With every drop of blood the man bled into the ground, they grew stronger until finally their message was clear. She opened her eyes and her face broke out into a wide, toothy smile. She squatted on the ground next to the dead man, turning him over so that his unseeing eyes stared straight at her, "They're saying to go back to the Hellmouth. My Spike is coming and he's bringing me a present."  
  
When the dead man gave no response she pouted, pushing him away from her before rocking backwards on her heels, the vibrations from the mountain running rampant through her until she opened her mouth and laughed. 


	6. Anywhere but Here

'She hangs around the boulevard,  
  
She's a local girl with local scars,  
  
She got home late, she got home late,  
  
She drank so hard the bottle ached.'  
  
No, she told herself for the hundredth time, I'm not going to start that again. Slowly, she unwrapped her hand from around the now crumpled carton of cigarettes. Her eyes hardened, and she deliberately stalked over to the waste can behind the house and resolutely tossed the carton in. A few of the cigarettes spilled out of the pack on top of the rubbish, shining like beacons.  
  
"It would be too low to grab those now," she reprimanded herself as her regret at throwing away her cigarettes squeezed tightly around her stomach. Stiffly, Buffy turned away from the garbage can, and stalked back into the brightly lit house on Revello Drive. Both Joyce and Spike looked up from their mugs of hot chocolate when she entered, both looking slightly relieved at her presence.  
  
"So," Joyce's voice lingered in the kitchen, "Are -- are you both going to be staying long?"  
  
Buffy sighed noncommittally, her hands wrapping around her mug, "We're here for the holidays Mom, but other than that, we figure the sooner we get out of here the better."  
  
"Oh," Joyce nodded, her shoulders slumping in disappointment, "Of course. Things might be a little tense."  
  
"A little?" Buffy snorted derisively, "A lot tense is more like it."  
  
Spike nodded, "She's right. The quicker we get our business done, the less trouble we stand to make. I reckon the Scoobies might not be so accommodating to our presence."  
  
'And she tried, and she tried, and she tried,  
  
But nothing's clear in a bar full of flies.  
  
So she, she takes, and she takes,  
  
She takes, and she takes --  
  
She understands when she gives it away.'  
  
Joyce just nodded her hands tightening imperceptibly around her mug, "It's getting late and you must be tired." She strode over to the sink and emptied the remainder of her drink down the drain before washing it carefully and placing it on the rack to dry, "Where are you staying?"  
  
"Holiday Inn."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Buffy shot a glance at Spike and he nodded, handing her his cup he rose from his seat and pulled on his duster, "I'll just go warm up the car." He left quickly, leaving Buffy and Joyce standing across from each other in the kitchen.   
  
"He seems nice."  
  
Buffy shrugged, "He takes care of me."  
  
Joyce turned away from the sink to stare at her daughter, her arms crossed across her chest, "Do you love him?"  
  
Buffy turned away, her own arms coming up across her chest. The silence stretched out between them and Joyce moved towards her daughter, her arms coming up to rest lightly on her shoulders. Buffy turned around, the ghost of a smile softening her face, "Yea, actually, I really do. I don't think that could've lasted this long without him. These last two years …"  
  
Her words trailed off.  
  
'She says, Man, I gotta get out of this town,  
  
Man, I gotta get out of this pain,  
  
Man, I gotta get out of this town,   
  
Out of this town --  
  
And out of L.A.'   
  
"So, I guess it means that I should give up all hope of grandchildren."   
  
Buffy shrugged, "Who knows."  
  
"The important thing, is that you're happy."  
  
Buffy's smile grew watery and her vision blurred. Instinctively, she reached for her mom, pulling her into a tight hug. Joyce returned it fiercely, hugging her tightly against her chest, her own tears rising in her eyes, "I'm so sorry Buffy."  
  
"Me too, Mom. Me too."  
  
'And she cried, and she cried,  
  
And she cried, and she cried,  
  
She cried so long her tears ran dry,  
  
And she laughed, and she laughed,  
  
She laughed, and she laughed --   
  
Cause she knew she was never coming back.'  
  
Spike leaned against the side of his car, a Marlboro hanging loosely from the side of his mouth. His head was turned upwards and he studied the stars aimlessly. He was lost in thought when he heard the voice faintly through the night air. He straightened, stubbing out his cigarette as he turned around, "Buffy?"  
  
Once again the voice wafted over to him, clearly calling his name. He started away from the car towards the middle of the street, "Buffy?" He called out her name again, peering into the shadows that stretched out in the moonlight. Only the wind answered him.  
  
He jumped at the hand that touched his shoulder, whirling around quickly he prepared himself to face whatever demon may be waiting for him, and found himself face to face with Buffy. A wry smile touched her mouth as he fell out of his battle stance, "Trigger-shy, much?"  
  
He didn't return her smile. Instead his eyes searched the darkness which seemed to have expanded around them, "I thought I heard something."  
  
Buffy followed his gaze, letting her Slayer senses loose, "I'd say we're all alone."  
  
Spike shrugged, "Must just be this place getting to me."  
  
Buffy nodded, "Yea, it does that."  
  
'Man, I'm gotta get out of this town,  
  
Man, I'm gotta get back on that train,  
  
Man, I'm gonna get out of this town,  
  
I'm out of my pain --   
  
And going back to L.A.' 


	7. Forgive Us Our Trespasses

'When we die, we go into the arms of those that remember us,  
  
We are home now, out of our heads, out of our minds,  
  
Out of this world, out of our time.'  
  
Buffy tried to quell the butterflies that were currently throwing a house party in her stomach. But they completely ignored her attempts, continuing to rollick around inside her. The familiar sounds of Sunnydale High wafted around her as she stood outside the back entrance to the library. For the hundredth time that day she wondered whether or not scheduling an appointment with Giles in the middle of the school day had been such a great idea.  
  
He'd acquiesced to her demands to conduct their interview in the privacy in his office, hopefully away from the eyes of the remaining Scooby Gang, and she'd agreed to leave Spike behind. Slowly, she pushed the door open and emerged into the back of the stacks. The sound of laughter reached her ears and her stomach turned over. She took a deep breath and steadied herself.  
  
She could hear Giles' familiar voice chiding them about whatever misdemeanor they'd just committed. More laughter and quips followed his reprimand accompanied by the sound of chairs being pushed in as the gang trotted resolutely out of the library at the sound of the bell. She hesitated a few extra moments, savoring what might be the last few seconds of relative peace, before coming out of the stacks ad finding herself facing Giles.  
  
He nodded tersely at her, "Buffy."  
  
She suppressed a sob at the coolness of his voice and nodded, "Yea."  
  
He gestured vacantly at the door to his office, "Shall we?"  
  
Buffy settled herself against the small couch, waiting for her Watcher to enter. He followed her in a few moments later, closing the door behind him, "You said it was urgent?"  
  
Buffy pulled her sweater tighter around her, an image of Kendra standing before her in the alley flashing through her mind, "Definitely."  
  
"I don't suppose you'd care to elaborate"  
  
Buffy started at the harshness in his voice, "Are there any records of Slayers coming back after they've died?"  
  
"You mean as ghosts?"  
  
"Ghosts, vampires, demons … whatever."  
  
"No," he raised his fingers to the bridge of his nose and removed his glasses carefully, "I don't believe there are any. Why?"  
  
"Because the other night Kendra was in pretty full action mode for someone who's supposed to be dead."  
  
"Good God, are you sure?"  
  
Buffy nodded, her hand straying absently to her throat, "There was no way it could've been anybody else. She knew things …"  
  
"I see," Giles said gruffly as he began the meticulous process of cleaning his glasses, "What do you need?"  
  
Buffy let out the air she hadn't known she was holding in and stood up, "I need any and all information we can get on what happens to a Slayer after she dies. And I need information on Drusilla. I want to know exactly what she can do."  
  
"What does Drusilla have to do with Kendra's reappearance?"  
  
"She killed her," once again Buffy's hands strayed to her throat, "I'd say she might have a lot to do with it."  
  
Giles nodded, "I shall inform the others-"  
  
"No." Her eyes met his, glinting coldly in the musty light of the library, "They stay out of this. Besides my mom and you, no one is to know we're here. I don't want another scene like last time."  
  
"Sunnydale is a small town, Buffy," he replaced his glasses on his nose, "You can't hide from them forever."  
  
"I don't intend too. I'm only here until Christmas."  
  
"And then what? You'll just disappear on us again? Leaving us defenseless on the Hellmouth?" Giles strode over to her, his anger palpable, "You are the Slayer. It is your duty."  
  
"My duty?" Buffy let out a bitter laugh, "What do you know about it?"  
  
"I know that you can't hide from it."  
  
She turned away from him, "You're right."  
  
Her voice rang hollow in the small room, "Don't think I haven't tried, though. Don't think for a second that if I thought Spike and I could live our lives together in peace, I'd be back in this town."  
  
"I never said it would be easy," Giles voice softened, "I know it can be unbearable at times, but there is a reason you were chosen for this, Buffy. It wasn't just chance."  
  
"Tell that to my Mom," Buffy turned around her face drawn, "Tell that to Angel. Tell that to Kendra. Knowing that I was the kid with the most potential doesn't make it any better, Giles. It can never get better."  
  
"Running won't help."  
  
"Maybe not," Buffy's voice dropped to a whisper, "But for a few months I had everything I ever wanted." 


	8. For the World

'So we move, we change by the speed, of the choices that we make,  
  
And the barriers are all self-made,   
  
That's so retrograde.'  
  
Spike sighed sleepily, the thin hotel sheets wrapped awkwardly around his body. He was floating in a sea of white. White walls, white sheets, and long white shadows. He rolled over onto his back to find Buffy sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at him. He opened his mouth to speak and she silenced him, her hands caressing his face and chest. He groaned as she leaned towards him, her mouth parted invitingly.  
  
The first kiss was like coming home. He sank beneath her warmth as her tongue met is, the sensation spreading throughout his body. His hands came up to thread through her long blonde hair -- alabaster against gold -- and then down to caress the tender skin of her neck.  
  
"Spike," she whispered his name into the kiss, her breath filling his lungs. He exhaled it slowly against her mouth, her hair falling down against his face as he moved her tightly against him. They rolled so that he was above her, the thin material of her shirt scraping against his bare chest, the sheets framing her face so that it seemed to glow.   
  
"Buffy," the word was expelled from him with the force of a prayer, his mouth meeting hers desperately, his hands worming their way under her shirt to touch her hot flesh. She moaned in reply, her hands wrapping around his neck, her nails scraping down the smooth skin of his back, the smooth skin of her fingers tracing the pattern of muscles on his stomach.  
  
Her legs moved up on either side of him, and he groaned as he came into contact with the heath beneath her skirt. He moved his mouth down to the flushed skin of her neck, tracing pattern along the cords and veins into the hollow between her clavicle. His hands bunched at the fabric of her shirt, lifting it gently over her head to reveal her lace clad breasts.   
  
"Wait," her voice broke through his haze of desire and he looked up, his swirling cerulean eyes meeting her deepening hazel ones, "I love you."  
  
He pressed his mouth against hers again, "I love you."  
  
Her body trembled beneath him and he rubbed his hands in small soothing circles, "Buffy, love, what is it?"  
  
She just shook her head, her hands moving absently through his platinum hair, "You know that whatever happens, you're everything to me, right? I wouldn't give you up for the world."   
  
"The feeling's mutual, pet. You're everything."  
  
"Everything," she mouthed, her hands running over the smooth planes of his chest, "Kiss me."  
  
'I am alive, I am awake to the trials and confusion we create,  
  
There are times when I feel we're about to break,  
  
When there's too much to say.'  
  
He did. His hands finding the clasp of her bra and undoing it. He moved down towards her breasts once again, cupping them gently in his hands. His mouth closed around one nipple and she groaned, her back arching as her fingers dragged through his hair, her legs wrapping around his waist. He teased at her breasts, his hands sliding over her stomach, her mouth opening in the quiet of the room, her hair spreading out around her face as the first few beads of sweat began their long descent down her body.   
  
His mouth moved down her stomach, tongue dipping in her navel as his fingers hooked under the waistline of her skirt and panties, sliding them down over her hips and then, one leg at a time, off of her completely.  
  
'We are home now, out of our heads, out of our minds,  
  
Out of this world, out of this time.'  
  
The Sunnydale bus rolled into the station silently. The stars shone above in the sky, still and waiting. The passengers stumbled from the bus, clutching at their carry-ons and various other bags. Instinctively, they hurried away from the darkness of the parking lot toward the more well lit areas of the streets, anxiously scanning for their rides or dialing the number of local taxi companies.   
  
Among them, a dark-haired girl sauntered from the bus, her duffel bag slung carelessly over her shoulder. Her darkly rimmed brown eyes scanned the crowds, looking for anyone of interest. For a second her full, dark-red mouth turned down into a pout, before hardening once more as she turned away from the nervous new arrivals and started down the dark streets of Sunnydale, her hands in the pockets of her jean jacket.  
  
'Out of this time, Out of this time.' 


	9. The Bonds of Friendship

'My friend assures me, "It's all or nothing."  
  
I am not worried -- I am not overly concerned.  
  
My friend implores me,  
  
"For one time only, make an exception."   
  
I am not worried.'  
  
Buffy sighed and turned over in the bed, Spike's cool arms wrapped loosely around her body. Two days had passed since she and Giles had first discussed what they would need to do in order to discover what had happened to Kendra. Two days of absolutely nothing but dead ends and more questions.   
  
The subject of life after death pertaining to Slayers was an obscure and rarely studied field, providing only the barest selection of writings and grey allusions to rituals and theories long since lost and forgotten. The research into the life of Drusilla wasn't going much better. Aside from Spike's memories and a cursory biography, little was written about the mad vampiress.  
  
Buffy let out another groan and rose from the bed into the cool night air. She shivered and reached for her jeans, pulling them on hurriedly along with a black knit sweater. Returning to the bed she placed her hand on Spike's chest, calling his name softly. He mumbled in his sleep, his eyes fluttering before he turned and buried his face in her pillow.  
  
Buffy sighed in annoyance as she stared down at the blonde vampire. Her body was tight with tension and she'd had every intention of working it out somehow. Outside the wind howled menacingly for a California winter. She shivered involuntarily, her eyes drifting to where his duster hung draped across the chair. Her own leather jacket hung neatly in the closet, but instead of going to get it, she slipped on Spike's, inhaling his scent. From her duffel bag she pulled out a gnarled stake, her fingers roaming over it lovingly before depositing it in the waistband of her pants and heading out into the night.  
  
The streets of Sunnydale were deathly quiet as she moved through them, her feet instinctively following remembered paths. Before long she found herself staring at the gates of the main cemetery, her hand balanced against the cool concrete pillars. Slowly she pushed open the gate and entered what had once been her most familiar hunting ground.  
  
She was instantly assaulted by the memories, bits and pieces of conversation floating to her on the wind. The past was vibrant in her mind, pushing her farther into the graveyard, her arms wrapped protectively around herself as she sunk deeper into the protective covering of Spike's duster.   
  
The first scream broke her out of her reverie.   
  
'Wrap her up in a package of lies  
  
Send her off to a coconut island  
  
I am not worried --   
  
I am not overly concerned with the status of my emotions.'  
  
She took off at a run in the direction the scream had come from, her feet leaving the ground before the scene before had completely unfolded itself to her. She landed on the vampire with a loud thwack, jarring him off of the girl who scurried behind a nearby tombstone. Short red hair gleaming dully in the moonlight.  
  
She was dimly aware of a fight happening beside her, but the vampire before her demanded her immediate attention, threatening to send her sprawling to the ground with his massive bulk. Finally she found the opening she was looking for and jabbed the stake home, whirling around towards the other fray, stake in hand, only to find herself staring into the eyes of a definitely human looking girl.  
  
Buffy lowered her hands, the stake disappearing from view. Before she had a chance to question the girl she found herself tackled to the ground, warding off a flurry of angry blows. Hurriedly she grabbed at the girl's wrists, propelling her off of her and onto the ground behind her. Wasting no time she propelled herself from the ground and turned to find the other girl on her feet as well.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" The brunette's eyes narrowed demandingly her full mouth poised in an angry frown, her wild hair disarrayed.  
  
"Buffy," she stated, the familiar words rolling of her tongue, "the Vampire Slayer."  
  
For a second the brunette looked take aback before an expression somewhere between mirth and disappointment flitted across her face, "Well, hell's bells." The brunette smiled expectantly, her teeth gleaming in the moonlight, "So you're Buffy. The name's Faith, you know, the other Vampire Slayer."  
  
Buffy started, an image of Kendra's face drifting across her memory. Finally she gave a silent nod of assent and turned towards the tombstone where the girl still huddled with her back turned to them, hunched over the inert body of her companion. Buffy frowned, the familiarity of the short red hair sending the hairs on neck up in warning.   
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
The red head whirled around her pale face fading to near transparency as she took in the sight of the petite blonde before her. She gasped as Buffy tumbled backwards, her eyes wide a the familiar face. The Slayer's voice trembled nervously as she spoke the familiar name, "Willow?"  
  
The red-head nodded tremulously, a slow smile spreading across her impish features. "Buffy?" She queried unbelievingly before launching herself from her arms into the blonde's tight embrace. Awareness of Faith's presence vanishing from their minds.  
  
Buffy let out a relieved sob against her friend's shoulder, taking care not to squeeze the petite girl too hard. Finally, they pulled apart from each other, each eyeing the other precisely as they took in the changes that had occurred over the year.   
  
Willow smiled, "You let your hair grow out."  
  
Buffy returned the smile, "You cut yours."  
  
They continued to stare at each other happily, the smiles growing broader by the moment, completely oblivious to Faith's silent departure. It took the sound of a low moan from behind the tombstone to wrench the girls apart as they turned to stare worriedly at Oz who had risen from his spot on the ground and was blinking at them rapidly.  
  
His expressionless eyes met Buffy's and he shrugged lightly, "Hey."  
  
'"Oh", She says, "We're changing."  
  
But we're always changing.'  
  
Buffy and Willow sat across from each other in the twenty-four hour diner. Oz lounged next to Willow, his face stoic as always, one hand casually resting on Willow's shoulder. Buffy had spent the last hour explaining the events since they had last seen each other and now Willow sat deep in thought, a slight frown on her face, "Maybe it was a warning."  
  
Buffy leaned in closer, "About what, though?"  
  
"Well," Willow chewed nervously for a second on her bottom lip, "about the new Slayer. That's who the other girl in the graveyard was, right?'  
  
Buffy nodded, "Yea." With a deep sigh she pushed back from the table, "But that still doesn't explain Dru's connection to everything and Kendra's anger."  
  
Willow worried her bottom lip some more, her face lightning up as a thought occurred to her, "Research party."  
  
Buffy smiled at her friends enthusiasm, "Guess so." Then she frowned, "You've got to promise me something, Will."  
  
He redhead nodded, concern etching it's way onto her face, "Anything."  
  
"Don't tell Xander anything." 


	10. In the Space Between

'It does not bother me to say this isn't love   
  
Because if you don't want to talk about it then it isn't love   
  
And I guess I'm going to have to live with that  
  
But, I'm sure there's something in a shade of gray or something in between  
  
And I can always change my name if that's what you mean.'  
  
Buffy slipped quietly into the hotel room. The bed was empty and Spike sat at the round table in the corner of the room. Buffy felt her breath catch in her throat as she caught sight of him, a warm flush spreading across her body. A cigarette dangled carelessly from his mouth, making his cerulean eyes glow in the embers, his pale skin awash in the moonlight that slipped in through the part in the curtain. His black jeans rode low on his hips, and his hair was tousled from sleep.  
  
"Hey," she said as she moved towards him, shrugging out of his duster as she did so and laying it across the table. She leaned down and his fingers removed the cigarette from his mouth in anticipation of her kiss. Their mouths slanted together tenderly, the warm interplay of their tongues the only movement in the dark room.   
  
Spike's hands wrapped around her waist, pulling Buffy into his lap, her warm fingers splayed across the cold firmament of his chest. His hand snaked towards the back of her head, releasing her hair from it's bond and sending it spilling around them in a golden sheet that framed their faces as they moved closer together, their hands hungrily seeking the familiar flesh. They finally separated, Spike's chest heaving beneath her hands with unneeded breath and she rested her head in the crook of his neck.  
  
"I saw Willow."  
  
Spike's hand paused midway down her back before continuing it's course to settle firmly on her waist, "Oh."  
  
"She's going to help us with the research."  
  
Spike nodded, "Red always was decent."   
  
"That's not all", Pushing herself apart from Spike she brought her head level with his to meet his eyes, "There's a new Slayer in town. She says her name is Faith. Willow thinks she might be why Kendra came back, as a sort of warning."  
  
Spike shook his head, "Doesn't explain why she attacked you, pet."  
  
Buffy sighed, "Yea. It was too easy." She paused for a moment, her eyes searching Spike's before she whispered, "I love you, you know?"  
  
All traces of a smile fled his face as he looked at her, one rough hand coming to rest lightly on her cheek, "Do you?"  
  
She nodded, her own soft fingers coming up to entwine with his, "Always."  
  
"So you trust me then?" The question echoed ominously around the room.  
  
Buffy moved his hand down to her neck so that his fingers rested on the pulse point there, "Why shouldn't I?"  
  
"Because I am what I am, love."  
  
'My friend assures me,  
  
"It's all or nothing."  
  
I am not worried --  
  
I am not overly concerned.   
  
You try to tell yourself  
  
The things you try tell yourself to make   
  
Yourself forget to make  
  
Yourself forget I am not worried.'  
  
Faith practically growled as she opened the door to her dingy hotel room, the scene in the graveyard replaying through her mind. Giving a disgusted sigh, she slipped out of her leather pants, her red halter soon following it to the floor. Stalking over to the bathroom she began to scrub furiously at her arms and face, the other Slayer's face taunting her while she scrubbed, exacerbating her ministrations until the skin gleamed pink in the over bright lights.   
  
"Dammit!" She brought her hands down hard on the counter, her large brown eyes staring at her reflection in the mirror, "This was supposed to be my town!" With a snarl she whirled around towards the bedroom and found herself staring into a pair of narrow ebony eye. She startled, not noticing the subtle tingling of her body, the tell tale pallor of the woman's skin, or the wicked red nails that curled in anticipation at the woman's side, "What the hell do you want?"  
  
Drusilla smiled as she moved towards the Slayer, her eyes taking the flushed skin, her breasts hanging loose in the chill night air, the simple black cotton panties and the full rep lips. The girl shook her head and the loose mane of brown hair fluttered around her threateningly. It had been so long since she'd had a Slayer, she itched with the promise of the thrum of the girl's rich blood. Slowly, she glided towards the girl, her hand coming to rest on the delicate bones of the collarbone, a few stray strands of hair brushing against her fingers, "Poor little girl. All alone."  
  
Faith snorted and pulled away, "Are you whacked?"  
  
Drusilla let loose a low growl, her hand whipping out to encircle her throat, tightening her grip when Faith attempted to knock her hand loose, "The naughty Slayer doesn't care for her sisters. You could've been her. Instead the little worms eat you up inside. But Mommy's here to chase the worms away. I'll stomp on them until they quiver. Until they do what I say."  
  
Faith wheezed, her own hand wrapping around the vampiress' delicate neck. Drusilla snarled and pushed Faith against the all, the velvet bodice of her dress rubbing enticingly against her bare nipples, causing an involuntary gasp to escape from Faith's lips, "There there, now. Mommy can make it all better." She pressed closer against the girl, her free hand disappearing beneath the cotton panties, her mouth hovering tantalizingly above Faith's, "Give us a kiss."  
  
'"If it's love," she said,  
  
"Then we're gonna have to think about the consequences."  
  
She can't stop shaking and I can't stop touching her and  
  
This time when kindness falls like rain  
  
It washes her away and Anna begins to change her mind.'  
  
"Don't." Buffy pulled herself out of Spike's arms, running a shaky hand through her hair, "Don't say that."  
  
"Don't say what, love? That I'm a vampire? That I'm evil incarnate? " He stood up slowly and moved towards her, his eyes hard as he grabbed her, "What do you want me to say, love?"  
  
"Not this!" Her own hands came up to grip his forearms, "For crissakes, Spike!"  
  
He growled and shook her, his face morphing into the visage of a demon, "This is what I am, Buffy!" He pulled her flush against him, "Can't you feel how cold I am? How silent?" He shook her again, "Bloody hell, Slayer, you shouldn't love me."  
  
Buffy stiffened at his words, her hazel eyes snapping as she wrenched free of him and, with a great shove, knocked him backwards onto the bed. She was after him in a flash, straddling him, with her stake poised above his heart, ready to strike, "You're right. I shouldn't love you. Not when you disappear from my bed for a month. Not when I'm sworn to kill your kind. Not when you throw my love back in my face." She leaned down over him, "But you want to know the real fucked up part about it Spike? It's not that I love you. It's not that I trust you. It is that I will never not love you. You could kill me, and it would be better than living without you."  
  
He growled and flipped them over, knocking the stake to the floor, he hovered over her in game face for a moment before crushing his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss. Her hands reached up to stroke his face, smoothing the ridges away. Finally they broke apart, Buffy panting for air, "Don't you ever do that again. Don't you ever think that what they say is going to make me leave you. Because it isn't. I love you."  
  
"I love you," he whispered against her mouth, claiming her lips in a gentle kiss.  
  
"It's going to be all right."   
  
He answered her with kisses, the slide of his skin against her sweater, her hands on the smooth planes of his back, their soft moans filling the room. His hand cupped her breast reverently underneath the heavy material of her sweater, eliciting from her soft mewlings as his thumb traced around the aureole and across the nipple, the whisper of their clothes leaving their bodies filing her with relief as he gently parted her thighs and slid home   
  
'It seems like I should say,  
  
"As long as this is love."  
  
But it's not all that easy so maybe I should just snap her up in a butterfly net --  
  
Pin her down on a photograph album.   
  
I am not worried, I've done this sort of thing before  
  
But then I start to think about the consequences   
  
Because I don't get no sleep in a quiet room'  
  
Faith had thought she'd experienced the utmost height of pleasure before, but now, Faith felt she knew how it felt to die and be born all at once. She clung to the vampiress greedily. Her moans filling the room as her blood spilled on the white hotel pillow, her long legs twisting around the vampire in a frenzied dervish until with a final orgasmic shudder she lay still on the bed.   
  
Drusilla withdrew from her, her tongue wiping the excess blood from her lips lazily as she watched her Slayer shiver in the final throes of the claiming, she was hers now, for life, "Tell me my sweet, what do you want?"  
  
Faith sighed and tilted her head to the side, exposing the vicious bite marks visible against the pale column, "More."  
  
Drusilla laughed and shook her head, "We shall make them pay, pretty. They would have taken everything from you until you rang like a bell. Even now their shadows claw at your throat."  
  
Faith nodded, "It should've been mine."  
  
Drusilla cocked her head to the side and closed her eyes, listening past the noisy thump of the Slayer's heart to the voices that whispered all around her, "Don't worry, pet. In the end you'll get everything that you deserve. Mommy's here now."  
  
'Her kindness bangs a gong   
  
It's moving me along and Anna begins to fade away   
  
It's chasing me away.  
  
She disappears, and, oh lord,   
  
I'm not ready for this sort of thing.' 


	11. The Harbringers

'She falls apart by herself,   
  
No one's there to talk or understand.  
  
Feels sustained, dries her eyes,  
  
Finds herself, opens the door inside.'  
  
Buffy twisted against the thin cotton sheets of the hotel, sweat beading her body as she clawed at the mattress. She let out a low moan, her eyes pressed tightly shut as she rocked farther and farther into the bed. With a final groan she turned off the side of the bed, her body giving a few final twitches as the nightmare began to loosen it's hold on her.  
  
The cool pre-dawn light filtered in through the thick hotel curtains, casting the room in a series of pale grays. She blinked absent-mindedly at the ceiling above her, trying to recall the nightmare that had plagued her the entire night. But now, in the burgeoning light, it was fading away at a painfully quick pace. She sat up slowly, her gaze traveling over the empty bed. A frown worked it's way across her face as she realized Spike was gone.   
  
She dropped the sheet back on top of the bed and walked over to the windows. She pulled back the curtains, the cold rising up from the glass to her face as she stared out at the sleeping town. She closed her eyes, forcing her long dormant Slayer senses to traverse the town, her vampire radar searching for that one demon that always made her more aware of him than anything else. Finally, she sighed, pulling back from the window, unable to get a concrete fix on his location, "At least I know he's alive. Although whether or not I'll be rectifying that later remains to be seen."  
  
* * *  
  
Willow frowned as she studied the contents of the grimoire before her, the cramped characters making the arduous task of deciphering the ancient Latin exceedingly more difficult. As a result, she was going at a painfully slow pace, "Always … Always … Always the warrior shall be sacred, her body a vessel." With a labored sigh she plunged on, carefully deciphering the next few lines, "For she is a meeting place of the two powers; the light and the dark. The only body that can hold the power of both forces and still breathe. Once deceased, they're bodies are eternally dormant, and only one whose veins carry the blood of the Sisterhood can call one across the veil." She stopped and repeated the last line, quickly she reached across to the stack of books before her and pulled out a thick codex.  
  
She flipped quickly to the pages until she found herself staring into the carefully rendered hypnotic eyes of the brunette vampiress. In the picture she was clothed in a dress of red brocade, that fitted into her narrow waist and was decorated with delicate black embroidery. Her white hands were outstretched before her. In one hand she held a ball created of a shimmering transparent material and in the other a long, thin silver needle. The caption below the picture read, 'Drusilla was the last known member of the Sisterhood, and is depicted her carrying the sacrosanct symbols of the cult.'  
  
"Giles!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Faith awoke to a throbbing head. Slowly, carefully, she moved from the blood-stained bed to the bathroom, her knees shaking beneath her the entire time. A throbbing pain spread from the side of her neck to the complete length of her body. Casting a cursory glass at the mirror she turned on the water and bent down to wash her face. Her hand came up to push her hair away from her face and she froze as it came into contact with something thick and clotting. Trembling, she brought her fingers in front of her face, staring at the thick blood that marked them. She lifted her gaze to the mirror and suppressed a shriek as she realized that her thick brown hair was matted with blood in various degrees of coagulation.  
  
"Turpitude."  
  
Faith turned around at the sound of the familiar voice and found herself staring into the visage of Drusilla, her own face marked with stripes of Faith's drying blood. She shrugged unapologetically, a feral smile twisting the delicate features of her face, "It fits me like a dress." She pressed herself against Faith, her pink tongue darting out to lick at the blood by her ear, taking the earlobe between her teeth as she did so and sucking on it encouragingly.  
  
Faith felt her body responding despite her waning disgust, a rush of heat so intense it left her dizzied and clinging to the sink. Struggling to bring her vociferous emotions under control she pushed away from Drusilla, "Not now."  
  
Moving past the vampiress she exited the bathroom, searching across the disheveled sheets for some clothes. So absorbed was she in her search that she was completely unprepared for the vicious slap across her thighs that sent her reeling to the floor. Large, red welts springing from where the vampiress had struck. Drusilla's low keening filled the air and she turned to find the vampiress standing over her in game face, swaying back and forth, her long black hair flowing dangerously around her form, "Naughty Slayer."  
  
She reached down and grabbed the girl's right arm, her fingernails digging into her skin as she brought her level to her face, "Miss Edith warned me that you might be difficult. I put chains on you and you come when I call. Like a dog. Rrrruff."  
  
She released the Slayer and moved away towards the table, her fingers gliding across the fake wood grain. Faith could feel her anger rising and she reached out for her clothing, viciously yanking on her undergarments before she spotted the stake half hidden beneath her jeans. Casting a furtive glance at the vampiress she grabbed it, holding it carefully in her hands.   
  
Silently, she straightened and moved towards the vampiress, stake ready to plunge. With a yell she lunged, only to find herself falling backwards across the floor, the stake clattering from her fingers. This time Drusilla wasn't as gentle as before and with a brutal yank twisted Faith's arms behind her back and moved her head back from her neck.  
  
"Bad dog," she ran the tip of her teeth along the skin of her neck, breaking it open neatly, "Not even the fairies can save you from me." With a feral growl she plunged her fangs into the side of Faith's neck and drank deeply.  
  
* * *  
  
The warm water washed over her body, cleansing away the nightmare. She sighed, luxuriating in the warmness a few minutes longer before shutting off the water and stepping into the harsh cold of the bathroom. Shivering, she reached for her towel and began to dry her body hurriedly.  
  
She wrapped the towel around her body tightly and was just leaving the bathroom when the sound of breaking glass echoed behind her. She paused, feeling an almost imperceptible drop in the temperature. The hairs on the back of her neck rose slightly as she became increasingly aware of the sound of her heart beating and beneath that a chorus of whispering voices. Slowly she turned and found herself staring into the broken mirror above the sink, and in the glass she watched, horrified, as Drusilla drank deeply from the neck of a young girl, her cool hand squeezing one cloth covered breast in a painfully possessive manner.   
  
The vampiress raised her eyes toward Buffy's and they locked as she continued to watch; unable to look away. Finally, she withdrew her fangs and licked at the long white column as the head turned around and she found herself staring into the haunted eyes of the Slayer from the cemetery. Like Drusilla, her eyes locked with Buffy's as she mouthed the words, "Soon."  
  
Buffy yelped and stepped backwards, slamming the bathroom door closed as the phone began to ring, breaking the spell.  
  
* * *  
  
Spike swore as he sat in the back of Willy's bar, smoking his cigarette furiously as he contemplated the risen sun. His impromptu meeting had run later than he expected and had left him little better off than before. Even now, the torrent of heart beats that rang in his ears outside the bar sung to him, begging him to come out a feed. With another violent curse he stubbed out the cigarette and crumpled up the bar napkin with the now all too familiar name and number on it.   
  
He leaned back against the booth and closed his eyes, preparing to wait out the day there. When he opened them again he frowned, finding himself alone in what had been only a few moments before a crowded bar. He stood up cautiously and walked out to the middle of the bar, "Hello?"  
  
He stood there for a minute, listening to the silence before shrugging and crossing over behind the bar and reaching under it for an unopened bottle of tequila, "Free bar for all then." He sat out a shot glass and poured the Tequila into it before knocking it back neatly. He sighed, wiped his mouth and poured another shot. He tossed it back and was about to pour a third when a muffled sound caught his attention.   
  
He followed the sound towards the back of the bar and into the small storage area next to the bathrooms. On the floor in the corner a figure sat huddled, her broken nails scratching the rough wood planks of the floor, her white dress torn and stained. Spike shifted nervously, unable to pick a heartbeat out from her, "Hello?"  
  
The girl lifted her head revealing the large maggot infested gash in her throat and Spike drew back, stumbling in his haste to get out of the room. He could hear her rising from the floor and following him out, the sound of whispering voices filling the air as he stumbled and tripped into the center of the bar before he landed sprawling on the floor. Slowly, she walked in front of him and dropped from her arms a white bundle, the sound of something breaking reverberating in the air as it hit the floor, "Open it."  
  
Automatically, Spike did so, pulling out the broken pieces of a doll's face and next to it a broken picture frame, the glass sticking into a Polaroid of Buffy and the girl before him standing together, "Kendra."  
  
She didn't say anything as she looked down at him, her blank eyes staring sightlessly at him, "Soon."  
  
The intensity of the voices reached a high-pitched crescendo and Spike dropped the artifacts which dissolved into dust before him, his hands rising up to cover his ears in an effort to block out the torrential sea of sound. He let out a loud yell as his surroundings wavered before him, going all black and then into brilliant color, people and faces appearing around him as he screamed.  
  
Finally the voices stopped and he hit the floor. "Buffy," he whispered struggling to his feet, ignoring the faces of the demons in the once again crowded room, "Buffy." Drawing his duster up above his head, he took off running towards the library. 


	12. Zero

'People see right through you,  
  
Everyone who knew you well,  
  
Falls apart, might as well,  
  
Day is long and nothing is wasteful.'  
  
"So this Sisterhood, they were like what, corrupted Slayers?"  
  
"In a sense, yes," Giles nodded, nervously cleaning and re-cleaning his glasses, "They were all massacred in the early 19th century by a group of over-zealous religious fanatics, by order of the Pope, or so they claimed."  
  
Buffy sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, desperately wishing that Spike was there, "So what does this group have to do with Drusilla and her ability to contact me through my now broken bathroom mirror?"  
  
"You say she was feeding on the new Slayer? Faith?"  
  
"Yea, although I'm not sure if I would call it feeding. There was too much … too much … passion? She looked really into it and Faith, the expression on her face wasn't complete disgust. There was something else there, like she was enjoying it."  
  
"Yea, well, you would know," Xander put in acerbically as he strode through the library doors, Cordelia on his heels, "Seeing as you're a vampire's whore."  
  
Buffy's hands clenched into fists at his words, her anger quickly rising, "Xander. What are you doing here?"  
  
He shrugged, "It's a free country. People can come and go whenever they want. But you should know that by now, Buff. Especially the leaving part. You've gotten enough practice."  
  
"Xander!" The brunette turned to face Willow who now stood directly behind Buffy, "How can you act like this? You don't even know what's going on."  
  
He laughed bitterly, "You're right. I don't. Mostly because my so-called friends kept me out of the loop. Although I suppose seeing who's involved I shouldn't be surprised. You guys were always trying to protect her."  
  
"You don't know what you're talking about," Buffy said as she moved a step closer to her former friend, "You have no idea what's going on here or what these past two years have been like."  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes, "Please. Spare me the poor little rich girl act. You actually got out of this hellhole. You were supposed to die! Instead we get stuck here doing your work and racking up uber high bills in dry cleaning."  
  
"Yea, well maybe you should save the Vera Wang for something other than patrolling, Cordy."  
  
"Well maybe you should check with the rest of us before you decide to run off with your undead boyfriend."  
  
"It's my life."  
  
Cordelia opened her mouth for a retort when the library doors opened and Joyce Summers stormed in, "What's going on here? I can hear you all the way done the hall." She turned and let her gaze run across the inhabitants of the room who avoided it awkwardly, she finally brought it to rest on her daughter who stood dejectedly a few feet in front of Willow, "Oh, Buffy."  
  
She crossed the library and came to stand next to her daughter, who acknowledged her mother with a warm look, "Mom. What are you doing here?"  
  
"I came to help," the older Summers turned to face Giles questioningly, "Well, what's everyone standing around here for? Shouldn't we start researching whatever it is that's threatening my baby's life?"  
  
"How about her boyfriend," Xander put in.  
  
Joyce turned on him, her eyes glinting with the ferocious light of a lioness protecting her young, "For your information Xander Harris, I have had the pleasure of Spike's company more than once and find him to be a nice young man. More importantly, he makes Buffy happy! If anyone has a problem with that you're clearly in the wrong place and can feel free to leave at anytime."  
  
"I for one," Oz piped up from his seat at the table where he had observed the whole exchange, "don't see what the big deal's all about."  
  
Willow nodded, "Oz is right. Buffy's love life is not the issue here, Drusilla and the Sisterhood are. If you've got a problem with that Xander then go."  
  
Silence filled the room and Willow nodded proudly, blushing at the grateful smile that Buffy sent her way. Giles let out a sigh of relief and replaced his glasses, "Now if we can get back to the subject at hand without any more interruptions. Drusilla was the last recorded initiate of the Sisterhood, earning the globe and needle --"  
  
He was interrupted as a smoking form burst in through the library doors, "Good lord."  
  
Spike dropped his duster, panting heavily as his gaze found Buffy, "Sorry to interrupt Watcher but we're about to have some company."  
  
"Spike," Buffy crossed over to him, her hand going to his face which was slightly marred from his exposure to the sun, "What's going on?"  
  
"I ran into a friend of yours at Willy's pet, and she seemed a bit anxious to get back to you, love."  
  
Buffy swore as she strode over to the weapon's cabinet and yanked it open, reaching in, she grabbed a couple of stakes and tossed them to Spike along with a crossbow before arming herself similarly and adding an extra dagger which she concealed on her body, "Giles, get my Mom back to her house. Oz, Willow, you guys start researching some way to stop them. We don't have any more time left."  
  
"How right you are, dearie." Buffy turned around to find Drusilla standing in front of the library doors, Faith and Kendra flanking her sides, "Miss Edith wanted her party and she's going to get it. Now." 


	13. The Sisterhood

'Runaway, runaway,   
  
Hold, hold you but you're going away.  
  
Runaway, runaway, Hold you tomorrow but you're leaving today.'  
  
Spike let loose the first bolt of his crossbow, Buffy quickly following suit. With a movement so quick they couldn't even see it, Drusilla raised her hands and caught both objects, her face twisting into a smile, "Naughty."  
  
She let the bolts drop the floor and took a step forward, avoiding the next flurry of bolts that were loosed at her. With a gesture of her hand Kendra and Faith stepped forward, "Round up our guests, the hosts don't like to be kept waiting long." The two slayers stepped forward, smiles rising up on their blank faces as they advanced on the crowd. Buffy caught Oz's eye and he nodded at Joyce and Willow. She nodded and turned back to face the two approaching slayers.  
  
"B," Faith snarled as she came to stand before the blonde, "I'm going to enjoy smashing in your face."  
  
"Likewise." Buffy loosed another crossbow bolt which hit Faith's shoulder, sending her back a few steps. She gripped the bolt as her face contorted in pain and with a vicious yank pulled it out of her arm which hung dead at her side. Beside her she could hear Spike grappling with Kendra as the undead Slayer managed to wrench the crossbow from Spike's hands, a number of bolts dotting her body.  
  
Faith continued towards Buffy, quickly Buffy glanced at Oz who had gathered Willow and Joyce near him and shouted, "Go!" Faith lunged at her, knocking the crossbow from Buffy's hands.  
  
Buffy was dimly aware of Spike and Kendra fighting beside her, the sickening crunch of bones reaching her ears and causing her to wince inwardly as she grappled with Faith. The younger Slayer attacked with a maniacal frenzy, kicking and punching ruthlessly as she sought to drive Buffy against the wall. Out of the corner of her eye she heard Spike's cry as he fell to the floor, Kendra standing over him, a splintered chair leg in her hand.  
  
"No!" she cried just as Drusilla commanded, "Stop!." Their eyes locked as Faith and Kendra backed away. On the floor of the library behind the counter lay Giles and Xander, both sported large bruises on the side of their faces but their chests rose and fell steadily. Drusilla stepped forward, her eyes never leaving Buffy's as she spoke to Kendra, "No need to kill them just yet, pet. Everyone else would be so disappointed."  
  
Kendra's makeshift stake clattered to the library floor and Buffy found herself let out a small sigh of relief. Drusilla smiled and moved towards where she and Faith stood. Faith backed away, hovering protectively behind the vampiress.   
  
Drusilla's hand snaked out and grasped her under the chin, "Sh, pet." Buffy ceased her struggles, her pupils expanding as Drusilla's gaze bore deeper and deeper into her eyes, "That's right, dearie. Be in my eyes. Be in me."  
  
Buffy felt her hold on consciousness fading until she was only aware of the thrum of blood in her veins and the ebony color of Drusilla's eyes which expanded and filled her vision until it was all she saw. She existed now solely through the rhythm of her veins and in the color of those irises. From the edge of her consciousness she was aware of a voice crooning, "Sleep now, pet. Your family's here."  
  
She closed her eyes, sending her world into black as she sank further and further into the throes of oblivion. Drusilla caught the Slayer as she swooned, hoisting her slim form into her arms. Drusilla rocked her gently, crooning softly at the sleeping form, her cold fingers clutching greedily at the Slayer's flesh. Finally, content that her victim wouldn't be stirring any time soon, she turned to her two minions who stood watching her with blank faces.  
  
She tilted her head, indicating the various fallen Scoobies, "Bring them." She started towards the library doors, before stopping and turning around, "And don't forget the poor chickens here. They ran off without their heads and now look what's become of them." She smiled down at the seemingly sleeping forms of Oz, Willow and Joyce, "Daddy would have been so pleased."  
  
'You walk along by yourself, There's no sound, nothing is changing. Been gone away, left you there, Emptiness is nothing you can't share.'  
  
Buffy awoke to darkness. She shivered and lifted her body into a sitting position before falling backward, her brain still fogged from the deep sleep. From the corner of the room she could hear the rustling of skirts as three cloaked figures came forward. Their faces were shrouded by the hoods of their cloaks, the only visible thing was their smooth white hands, each adorned with a delicately filigreed slave bracelet, which reached for her. She was aware of her clothes being removed from her as they bathed cuts and bruises, their skilled hands running across her body carefully, wiping away every visible trace of the last few years before turning to her hair. They soaked her tresses in rose scented water before drying it and forcing her to lie back on the bed.  
  
Trays came forth which held a variety of jars, brushes and needles. They scented her body with the essential oils of patchouli and sandalwood and thyme as well as a variety of scents that she couldn't identify. As they worked they whispered over her body in their soft language. Their hands were reverent on her body, blessing her hands, arms, neck, head, breasts, womb, sex, hips, knees and feet. Softly they turned her over and she was numbly aware of the first sting of pain as the long, thin needles were steeped in black ink and sacred symbols tattooed onto the skin of her back.  
  
As they worked they sang, lulling Buffy back into unconsciousness.  
  
When she woke for the second time an oil lamp burned low in the corner. She managed to push herself out of the bed as the cloaked women approached her and tied a soft fabric around her body into a secure tunic. They placed sandals on her feet and embroidered dried flowers and herbs in her hair before securing a leather belt around her waist.  
  
She watched them complacently, moving quickly as they ushered her forward through the door of her cell into a long dark hall and then finally into a room lit by fires that roared in a large pit. Behind the pit was a three tiered throne, at it's top sat Drusilla, her mad eyes staring serenely at the Slayer. Behind her stood Kendra and Faith, their eyes unseeing in the darkness. Below Drusilla sat two more woman, each quiet as the watched the Slayer approach.  
  
"Care to explain to the rest of the crowd?"  
  
Drusilla's eyes roved over the Slayer as she took in the ceremonial garb, a small frown of displeasure on her face as she intoned, "You have been chosen."  
  
Buffy placed her hands on her hips impatiently, "Tell me something I don't know."  
  
Drusilla just smiled and snapped her fingers, sending her two minions into motion. Kendra and Faith both stepped forward and began the long descent towards the fire. They paused at the rim of it, their blank eyes roving over Buffy before they jumped, the fire enveloping them both.  
  
"Kendra!" Buffy rushed forward towards the flames but found herself thwarted at the fire rose up in an intense wall before abruptly going out, leaving among the ashes only a few charred bone fragments. Buffy fell to her knees, her hands gently turning over the fragments as she whispered the Slayer's name again.  
  
"She had already passed through this veil to the next world. She is at peace now."  
  
"And Faith?" Buffy stood and started walking towards the woman who had spoken, "What about her?"  
  
"From the blood of the sister great things shall come."  
  
Buffy turned towards the other woman, "NO! Nothing good can come of death! Nothing! You killed them, in cold blood!"  
  
Drusilla began to laugh, the sound carrying throughout the cavern as she doubled over. Buffy turned to her and started making her way up the dais, "Poor little Slayer. Placed in the maze without even the scent of cheese. What will you do, little mouse, when the cat comes?"  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"What poor pack animal you make. Growf. You don't even ask where the rest of the animals are before starting to play."  
  
The fire sprung up again as Buffy neared Drusilla, her hands clenched menacingly, "Where are they?"  
  
"Where all the others have gone before." The vampiress leaned forward, "Through the fire."  
  
Buffy felt her knees weakening, "No …"  
  
Drusilla nodded and clapped her hands gleefully, "Oh, yes. There they are, can't you hear them calling? They call to me, such beautiful sounds … Especially the ones my Spike makes. I always did love how he sounded."  
  
Buffy's eyes flashed warningly, "Well content yourself with the memories, 'cause he's not yours any more."  
  
"No," Drusilla greed calmly, her large brown eyes watching as the flames leapt and danced behind the Slayer, "But he's not entirely yours either? Is he?"  
  
"What do you know about it?"  
  
"He leaves his bed cold in the gray morning light. A secret locked inside that he cannot tell you. Poor little girl. What will you do, huh? When the secrets eat him alive?"  
  
Buffy turned away and started slowly down the stairs, her jaw hardening as she approached the fire, "If they're in there I'll find them. I'll bring him back."  
  
The three women smiled at each other from the seats. Drusilla stood and descended the stairs as well, coming to stand beside the Slayer who glared at her, "Careful, love, there are all sorts of nasties in the dark. Even yourself. Scintilla."  
  
Buffy started and took another step towards the fire, "If I can find them I will."  
  
Good luck then, love," the vampiress replied as her hands gripped Buffy's shoulders and pushed her into the flames. 


	14. Left Behind

'All those words that hurt you,  
  
More than you would let it show,   
  
Comes apart, by yourself,   
  
All is well and everything is wasted. '  
  
"Buffy."  
  
The sound of her name echoing in the otherwise empty cavern brought her around to consciousness. She shook her head groggily and stood. The figure huddled deep in the corner and whispered her name again hoarsely, "Buffy."  
  
As Buffy moved closer she was able to make out the upper half of Xander's face, a long jagged cut spread across his forehead, "Xander." She knelt down beside him and stretched her hand out towards him, moving his brown hair away from the cut so she could examine it, "Thank god, it's only a surface cut." He didn't respond, he just continued to gaze at her as she pulled away from him, her hazel eyes frowning worriedly, "Xander? What's the matter?" He shook his head and she pulled away hurriedly, yanking him upwards with her. "Come on, we've got to get out of here."  
  
He nodded, "I'll second that." His voice was hoarse and gravelly and Buffy turned around again to get a better look at him. It was only then that she noticed the growth of a small beard on his face.  
  
"Xander?"  
  
"Yea?"  
  
She swallowed nervously, "How long have you been down here?"  
  
He shrugged wordlessly, his hand coming up to touch the beard, "About a week I think. Why? How long has it been for you?"  
  
"A couple hours at most."  
  
He shrugged again at her answer and it was then that Buffy noticed the long gashes in his shirt and the red welts that shown through them. She reached her hand forward and fingered the tear, "How did you get these?"  
  
He shuffled nervously, his eyes scanning the darkness, "She did it."  
  
"She?" He nodded. "She whom?"  
  
He shook his head and pulled at her hand, "We have to get out of here, quickly, before she comes back. She always comes back." He ran a little ahead of her and began pounding on the door anxiously, trying to force it open. He turned back to her and gestured for her to help him. Buffy moved forward and began tugging at the door as wall, the first hint of panic beginning to overtake her when she realized she couldn't get it open.  
  
She leaned against the cool metal of the door and gestured at Xander to stop his pounding. He acquiesced and stood silently beside her, his eyes nervously roving the shadows. Buffy closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing as she focused on finding a way out of the small chamber. Carefully, she opened up her Slayer senses, scanning the area intently for anything that might help her find the answer. From the corner where Xander had sat came the sound of shuffling. Buffy opened her eyes and turned to find Xander crouching beside the door, his eyes large as he stumbled backwards on all fours.   
  
Buffy turned and found herself staring into the blank white eyes of Kendra. The former Slayer stood half-veiled by the shadows. Her mouth twisted in a grimace of delight as she continued forward, her feet dragging heavily on the rough stone. Buffy felt her stomach heave as she got a clearer view of the Slayer's now badly decomposing body. In her one good hand the former slayer held a coiled whip, her other hand was little more than bone and sinew, the flesh rotted off long ago. Part of one cheek was missing as well and her feet left bloody footprints behind her. The gash on her neck was an angry red and Buffy could catch glimpses of small insects burrowed within the rot.   
  
She pushed her hand against her stomach as the bile rose in her throat, "Oh god."  
  
Kendra's maniacal smile widened, "Betrayer."  
  
Buffy shook her head and backed away, her hand fumbling for the knife the cloaked woman had pressed into her hand earlier. Her fingers slipped along the hilt as she gripped it tightly before drawing it. It's blade giving forth a silver sheen in the darkness, "Kendra, don't. You know this isn't right."  
  
The former Slayer tossed her head back and emitted a wild laugh, exposing her monstrous cut which opened up like a second mouth. When she finally stopped she fixed her blank gaze on Buffy, "I know nothing." Her hand clenched around the ship as she uncoiled it, "Do you think I choose at be this way? That demon stole my soul! I am ruined! Bound! Merciless!" She lashed the whip dangerously near Buffy's feet, "And you! You sleep wit her paramour! You love him! A demon! No better than the rest of them. I should've killed you when I had the chance!"  
  
The whip struck furiously, hitting Buffy across the arm. She hissed in pain and dodged the next blow. Kendra swung the ship at her in a wild frenzy, catching her across the back of her legs and tearing the hem of her tunic. She struck again, the length wrapping around Buffy's forearm. With a vicious yank she pulled the whip away from Kendra and tossed it into the corner. Kendra let out a shriek of rage and leapt toward Buffy but she was prepared and swung her knife, embedding it in the girl's chest. Kendra paused in horror and fell backwards as Buffy yanked the knife out. Thick black blood began to ooze out of the wound as she fell to the floor, the decaying process speeding up until little more than the girl's bones remained on the floor.   
  
Buffy dropped her knife and backed away in horror. She felt the cool metal of the door and stared unseeingly into the dark. Xander, perceiving that the fight was over, moved forward slowly and grabbed Buffy's knife, cleaning it carefully on the stone floor. He handed it back to her quietly and she accepted it, sheathing it without really even knowing what she was doing. Finally, she shook her head and moved over to Kendra's bones, she ran her hands over them carefully before whispering goodbye and standing to face Xander who watched her impassively.  
  
"So," she looked up at the door, "Let's figure a way out of here."  
  
"You brought them here. If it wasn't for you, none of this would of happened."  
  
Buffy closed her eyes as her hands clenched into fists, "You really are an idiot." She opened her eyes and turned to face him, "I don't know which part of me just saving your ass that you missed but believe me when I say I regret it! I don't even know why I listen to you. We're not friends any more, if we ever were, and you have no say in my life. Got it?"   
  
Xander was about to open his mouth to retort when his eyes bulged out and he motioned for Buffy to turn around. She did so carefully, her fingers brushing over the hilt of her knife. Above the door a line of runic script shone dully. Buffy stepped forward and raised her hand towards them. Xander came to stand next to her, staring up at the inscription in awe, "What does it say?"  
  
"The Past," Buffy muttered, her eyes tracing the intricate carving on the door to the circle carved in the center. She pressed her hand against it and gasped as the metal molded itself around her hand, clutching it tightly before releasing her. Carefully, Buffy pushed on the door and watched as it swung open to reveal a long flight of stairs.  
  
"Nowhere to go but up."  
  
Buffy nodded and began the climb into the dark.  
  
'Runaway, runaway,   
  
Hold, hold you but you're going away.  
  
Runaway, runaway,  
  
Hold you tomorrow but you're leaving today.' 


	15. What's Left

'Sometimes we'll feel around and this dance instead can't be down, All the sound of me on my own. Any sound of me again it's time away surround around a friend, I know where I know where no where to runaway.'  
  
The spiral of stairs extended upward in a seemingly endless spiral. Buffy and Xander kept close to the wall, their hands balancing them against a potential fall as they followed the crumbling path. Hours passed as they climbed, sweat beading their foreheads as the stairs numbered five hundred, then seven hundred, then a thousand.  
  
Xander huffed and puffed the entire way, his face beet red by the time they reached the door atop the stairs. He balanced beside the small platform that signaled the end of the stairway carefully, casting a dubious glance over his shoulder at the yawning black mouth below him, "Are you gonna open it?"  
  
Buffy cast him a withering glare before returning her regard to the large metal door before her. Gingerly, she placed her hands on the cool iron, her hands running assiduously across the intricate carvings. When she'd finally satisfied herself that there was nothing abnormal about the door she wrapped her hand around the knob and turned it, watching as the door slipped open to reveal the dark chamber within.   
  
Beside her Xander quakes as he stared into the darkness, "Not again."  
  
Ignoring his distress Buffy entered the room slowly, her fingers wrapped around her knife. A low groan emitted from a dark lump on the floor and it turned towards the door. Buffy felt her heart drop as her mother's clouded eyes met hers, "B-Buffy?"  
  
"Mom." Buffy rushed forward and gathered the older woman's head into her lap, "Oh my god." Her hands smoothed Joyce's hair back as she checked her mother over for any signs of injury. With the exception of a large lump on the side of her head the older woman seemed relatively fine. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief, "Do you think you can walk?"  
  
Joyce nodded. Carefully Buffy helped the older woman to her feet, balancing her between Xander and herself. Slowly they began their trek across the vaulted room, pausing at the archway that rose before them before entering cautiously. A lithe form flashed past them and Buffy stilled, her hand once more on her dagger, "Come out."  
  
The sound of rustling echoed through the chamber before Willow stepped forward, badly disheveled, a small rock in her hand, "Buffy?" The redhead took a few tentative steps forward before letting out the breath she'd been holding, "Thank God, I was beginning to think I'd be trapped here forever." Out of the shadows behind her, Oz stepped forward quietly, another chunk of stone in his hand, he nodded at them.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
They both nodded and joined the trio. Xander eyed them nastily, his brown eyes narrowing, as he took n their dirty but otherwise unharmed states, "How come I'm the only one who got beat into oblivion?"  
  
"Karma?" Buffy volunteered eagerly, suppressing a small smile at Xander's scowl, "At least you guys armed yourselves."  
  
"We didn't know what was going to happen. Things have been a little woozy down here," Willow gestured excitedly at the archway behind Buffy, "We didn't even realize that was there until you passed through it." Her excitement faded quickly though as she took in Buffy's unorthodox clothing. She reached her hand out and touched the soft white cloth tentatively, breathing in the herbal scents that she had become familiar with during her experiments into the darker arts, "Why are you dressed that way?"  
  
Buffy shrugged uncomfortably, "I'm not sure. When I came to it was already done." She hesitated as if on the brink of volunteering more information before turning to look back at the arched doorway, "We better keep moving. No telling what's going on around here." They all nodded eagerly and crossed to the other side of the room, a long hall forming before them. They stood nervously at the threshold, Willow clutching her rock to her as her green eyes scanned the area.   
  
As one they entered the hall and began scurrying quickly down it's expanse, their eyes sweeping across the vaulted ceiling with it's peeling murals and the rows of imposing doors. A heavy coating of dust covered everything and hung thick in the air, making it difficult to breathe. The sound of their feet was muffled by the thick carpet beneath their feet it's color now faded with age and anonymity. Stone gargoyles peeked down at them from the ceiling above, their empty eyes silently watching the Scoobies passage. A few torn paintings adorned the wall, the inhabitants of the frames silent a well, their eyes carefully guarded, their light smiles taunting the Scoobies. Each one held the globe and needle that Drusilla had been depicted with in the codex.  
  
Joyce eased herself off of her daughter and Xander midway through the hall, standing shakily on her two feet before giving her daughter a small smile, "We can go faster this way." The Slayer nodded and turned forward just in time to catch Willow's gasp. Up before them stood the half shadowed figure of a woman. She flashed them a wide smile, her teeth glowing brilliantly against the darkness, and took a step forward, "Well, if it isn't the mighty B. Slayer not enough for you? Gotta get more special memberships?"  
  
"Faith," Buffy moved in front of her friends, her chin raised defiantly, fighting against the twinge of panic as she recognized Giles lying on the floor behind the other Slayer. A feral grin spread across her face as she let her gaze roll lazily back to the Watcher, "Dear old Dad's been keeping me company, B. It just gets so damn lonely down here."  
  
"What are you doing this for Faith?" Buffy inched closer to the other Slayer slowly, "We barely know each other."  
  
Faith snorted derisively as she eyed Buffy's ceremonial garb, "I don't have to know you to understand how it would be, Buff. You're a legend. It's all I ever hear about, the Great Buffy," she sneered, "Of course they always leave out your not so stellar fall from grace. But," she shrugged, "You know how it is with historians. They always have a purpose for the stories they remember."  
  
Faith took a step forward, "This town could have been mine. You left. It was up for grabs. But then, you and your undead playmate just had to come back. There's not enough room for the two of us, B. Better to get rid of you sooner than later."  
  
"Do you really think I'm going to let you beat me?"  
  
Faith smiled, "I don't think you're going to want to let me, I think you're going to have to." With that she lunged at the blonde, their bodies colliding as they hit the floor. Buffy heaved Faith over her head and rolled up gracefully, prepared for the attack that came at her wildly as the younger girl sent a barrage of fists and feet her way. Buffy blocked them skillfully, taking only a few minor hits as she waited for the younger girl to tire. Finally, spotting an opening, Buffy brought her foot down hard against Faith's kidneys, sending the younger Slayer reeling backwards. Buffy launched her attack now, bringing the younger girl down to her knees.  
  
Unwilling to let Buffy win, Faith grabbed her foot, bringing Buffy down on her knees before her. Buffy pushed forward, knocking them to the floor so that she straddled the girl and pinned her arms above her head. Faith smiled raunchily and rolled her hips, "Figures that you'd like it on top, B."  
  
Buffy let out a low growl, "Think about it, Faith. What do you think you're going to get out of your arrangement with Drusilla? Power? Ha. Let me tell you something, Drusilla doesn't help others. She only helps herself. She owns you now."  
  
Faith snorted, "I can leave whenever I want."  
  
Buffy shook her head, "Can you?" Maneuvering both of Faith's hands into one of hers she used her free hand to brush th girl's hair away from the vicious bite marks on her neck, "She's claimed you for her own. There's no escaping her now."  
  
"What do you know?" the other Slayer spat out defiantly, "Maybe I just don't want to leave. After all, the sex …"  
  
"Euch," Buffy released the girl's head, "I know what I'm talking about Faith."  
  
The younger Slayer narrowed her eyes angrily, "Liar!" She pushed Buffy off of her and stood shakily, watching as the other girl rose from the ground to stand before her. She brought her fingers shakily to the side of her neck, "Liar."  
  
"Faith."  
  
"Stop," Faith backed away from the blonde Slayer, her eyes roving around the hall frantically, "I'll show you. You're wrong!" She turned and started down the hallway at a run, disappearing into the shadows.   
  
Buffy watched her go with a frown on her face, before letting out a sigh and turning to see the Scoobies crowded around Giles, who was slowly coming back to consciousness. She joined them, giving her Watcher a small smile, "You ok?"  
  
He grimaced but managed a small no before his eyes widened and he exclaimed, "Good Lord!"  
  
Buffy fidgeted nervously, "What?"  
  
"What are you wearing?"  
  
Buffy sighed and crossed her arms, "Don't ask me. One moment I'm unconscious and the next thing I know I'm the chosen one. Again"  
  
Giles stood and removed his slightly bent glasses, "Pardon?"  
  
"I'm Chosen," she said sardonically, gesturing at her garb, "Apparently there's some elaborate plan that involves dressing me up and setting me loose in here."  
  
"And being able to read the freaky writing," Xander volunteered. At Giles' questioning look he shrugged, "She could read understand something written in a different language above one of the doors."  
  
"Like that one?" They all turned at the sound of Oz's voice towards where he was pointing. Ahead of them a faintly glowing script was visible. Buffy moved towards it, stopping underneath it and the door it hung above.  
  
"Buffy," Willow's voice was small in the darkness, "What does it mean?"  
  
"The Present." 


	16. The Traveled Road

'She falls apart, no one there,   
  
Hold her hand, it seems to disappear,   
  
Falls apart, might as well,   
  
Day is long and nothing is wasted.'   
  
Buffy pushed the door open easily and entered into the darkened space beyond. She could hear the others crowding around the doorway behind her, watching as she moved further and further into the blackness. She shivered, Goosebumps rising on her arms as the damp air chilled. Her sandaled feet sunk into the thick moss covered paving stones. There was no ceiling above her, one the vast black firmament of the sky which hung ominously over them, offering not even the tiniest amount of comfort to the Scoobies.   
  
They trailed warily behind Buffy, their teeth chattering as they halted a few steps behind where she stood, gazing at the indistinguishable horizon. A flicker stood out among the darkness, a tiny pinprick of light that wavered and danced against the blackness. They moved towards it swiftly, pressing themselves against the biting cold and congealed darkness until they found themselves at a crossroads. In the middle of the two paths stood a veiled woman, her pale hand extended in the air as she held the lantern which contained the dancing light.   
  
The woman pulled back her hood, her ebony eyes shining in the dim light as she cast her gaze on the Scoobies, "Boo."   
  
The Scoobies jumped back, Drusilla's serpentine smile growing stronger as they trembles warily. She took a step forward, lowering the lantern, only to find Buffy's hand pressed against her middle, the knife pressing beneath her ribcage. Druisilla locked eyes with the Slayer, a pout forming on her mouth, "Naughty Slayer. The voices demand their tea and honey."   
  
"The party's over, Dru."   
  
The vampiress' eyes flashed warningly as her free hand came up and gripped the wrist holding Buffy's knife, "This isn't for me, dearie." She pushed the knife away and continued to gaze at the Slayer as the silence grew thick around them.   
  
Finally Buffy pulled the knife away and considered it carefully in the lantern light, "Who's it for, Dru?"   
  
She smiled broadly and danced away, "Betrayer. Liar. Both must bleed." She stopped, her black eyes glittering as she hissed, "Betrayer."   
  
Buffy fingered the filigreed blade carefully, her eyes taking in the delicate runic script, "So this is for me?"   
  
Dru nodded once more, "And the other."   
  
"The other?" Buffy questioned softly before sheathing the knife. Dru met her question with silence, leaving the Slayer to formulate her own conclusions. Buffy closed her eyes, "Why can I read the runes?"   
  
Drusilla's eyes danced as se threw her head back and laughed mischievously, "Because you're ours."   
  
"Yours?"   
  
"Ours. Sister."   
  
Buffy nodded, ignoring the looks from her mother and Giles, "What now?"   
  
The vampiress swept her hands out, indicating the two paths, "You can only chose one, but neither will take you back to where you started, and you'll arrive with less of what you have but more of a different thing."   
  
"And Spike?"   
  
Drusilla shrugged, "He'll not leave unless you take him. He's as they were. Blind. Like a rat."   
  
Buffy turned to face the others, her eyes lingering on each of them before she gestured to the road on the right, "Take that one, it will lead you out."   
  
"But what about you, Buffy?"   
  
The Blonde turned to face the left, "I'm going after Spike."   
  
Drusilla let out a low laugh, "Betrayal bites deep, is your armor that thick? His thoughts whisper to me in the dark. There is much you don't know."   
  
Buffy took a step on her chosen path, "I'll take the chance." With one final glance behind her she began to move into the darkness, following the blood rhythm that called to her.   
  
'Runaway Runaway,   
  
Hold hold you but your going away,   
  
But your leaving today, but you're leaving today.' 


End file.
